BLOOD ON THE MOON
The noon train from Santa Fe was late.
That was not unusual at this time of year when the livestock loading and unloading slowed the boarding process in the many stops along the dusty route.
Marshal Hardin was leaning against the station house wall. It was the last bit of shade available in the noon-day sun. A pair of drummers sat on the only bench on the platform taking minute draws from a single silver flask. The Marshal was aware of Candy Sampson, known affectionately over at the Lazy Branch Saloon as “Juicy Girl”, standing resolutely under a pink parasol on the sun-bleached wood platform. She was ignoring the snickers and ogling looks cast in her direction by the slightly inebriated salesmen.
Candy had glanced over at Wes standing in the shade of the train station but she gave no sign of recognition despite their intimate bedroom exercises on more than one occasion. She was well acquainted with the Marshal’s friendly weapon and had taken it deep in various kinky positions with a gusto she seldom displayed with the other randy males that sought her company. She knew he had to keep an air of noninvolvement where she was concerned because of the nature of his job. It didn’t bother her because she knew they would never go beyond the level of lust partners in secret.
Wes wanted to approach Candy but he knew it was not advisable with hidden eyes watching his every move. His job was on the line because of his regrettable altercation with some drovers from the Bar BBB that resulted in 2 more caskets for the fast growing Boot Hill just south of town. Maybe it was time for him to move on because his enemies seemed to be increasing with every passing day.
The dry desert air was assailed by the far away whistle of the Santa Fe midday train bearing down on them from the direction of Superstition Mountains. In the non-humid air, the train could have been less than a mile away or it could be ten times further and moving at an unknown speed. It depended on how many freight cars had been added to the passenger car. The route seldom needed more than one car because it was much cheaper to travel by stagecoach across the well-traveled Santa Fe Trail.
The railroad station clerk came out on the platform and announced,
“Noon train be here in about 15 minutes, folks. Got to offload some horses and then we will be boarding right away.”
Wes checked his pocket watch. Only twenty minutes late. Not too bad in this unusually high heat. The evening train at 5 PM would be another story. That was always at least an hour late just as regular as clockwork.
A Bar BBB buggy pulled up with a couple of seedy looking outriders. They had the look of “banditos” but he was certain the foreman at the Bar BBB would never consider hiring any punchers from south of the border. They were sitting on some mighty fine horseflesh so he was a bit mystified as to their origins. Probably just a couple of drifters from the chaotic range wars down in Tombstone. Marshal Hardin had a firm policy of never looking for trouble whenever possible. Trouble had a habit of finding him often enough that he didn’t have to go looking for it.
The female driver was another story.
Wes didn’t recognize the young girl of about 20 summers and that first look would stay in his mind for a very long time. She was light of hair and of a deliciously fair complexion. Her glorious blue eyes stirred his heart and gave a familiar tingle into his loins. If there had been no other humans in the immediate area, his base instinct would be to get this beautiful female in his grasp and mount her with the greatest of urgencies driving deep inside her lovely core until he touched the bottom of her sweet honeypot of passion. He saw her look about as if she could read the thought waves from his brain sending desperate signals of deep-seated male desire. Some females could sense when their external sensuality connected with a reciprocal well of lust in the male animal. It put them on guard and heightened their aura of arousal.
Marshal Hardin decided he would have to make a visit to the Bar BBB very soon to make the acquaintance of this exquisite creature.
The vibrations from the rails gave plenty of warning of the approaching train.
A long black plume wafted up into the cloudless sky and steam shot out of the bottom of the powerful locomotive hauling the single passenger car, at least ten freight cars and 2 livestock flatbeds behind it. The 2 drummers gathered their gear and scooted to the first door. Miss Candy followed at a safe distance wanting nothing to do with the two foolish tenderfeet.
Before they could step up into the car, a pair of mustachioed gents with boot length dust coats and carrying Henry rifles stepped down and carefully surveyed the platform. Wes noticed they gave him a more than casual once-over before they picked up their saddles and moved in tandem over to the waiting buggy.
The Marshal was warned by his own network of informants that they would be on this train, but he had to see for himself to be absolutely certain.
These two yahoos were unmistakably Pinkersons. They were the dreaded detectives that worked for the Railroad barons and other men with considerable influence on the accelerating development in the far Western portion of the United States. Their methods were sometimes brutal but their level of success was undeniable.
Marshal Hardin was perplexed.
“What in the world would Colonel Braxton want with Pinkersons way out here in this isolated place?”
Wes had only had one other run-in with the Pinkersons and that did not end well. He had wound up with a hole just above his left elbow that resulted in a slowed down left hand draw that never improved. It had changed him from his 2 gun style into strictly a right handed shooter. Of course, the 2 dead Pinkersons were in no position to make restitution to him for his damaged shooting hand. Fortunately, his participation was a well-guarded secret or he would have been tracked down by the resolute band famous for their zero-tolerance policy towards violent opposition.
Candy boarded the train with only a hint of a lowered eye to betray her awareness of the Marshal standing silently on the platform. Wes knew she would be back in a few days after purchasing things for herself and the other “Ladies” at the Lazy Branch too delicate for the nosy shop-keepers in town.
The last passengers to get down from the shuddering train were a drab looking middle aged female dressed all in black accompanied by a delicious looking young teenaged girl. Wes was expecting his ex-sister-in-law and her daughter and was suddenly caught up in confusion as to how to contend with a new widow and a very young girl. His recently departed brother Conner had made the fatal mistake of sitting too close to a window and met his fate at the hand of an unknown assassin.
“Howdy do Mary. I trust you and little Ella Mae had a pleasant journey.”
Wes knew Mary fairly well as he had spent an entire year working with his brother taming a frontier town only two short years ago. Little Ella Mae had been about 16 then and she had an embarrassing crush on him that made him a little skittish to be alone with her at any time.
She looked a bit older but at 18 she still retained a bit of baby fat that was not unsightly on any female personage. A bit too old for knee bouncing and that was no lie. Her petticoats were somehow revealing and that in itself was a bit mystifying. The curve of her youthful buttocks would draw the eye of any breathing male in close proximity and probably most of the girls down at the Lazy Branch as well.
Mary had always seemed a bit of a cold fish. She kind of turned her nose up whenever Wes was in the room and constantly reminded him of little annoyances like a dirty boot on the carpet or setting his glass down without a coaster to protect her furniture. Sometimes, it seemed almost certain she did it just to get his goat.
He arranged with the stationmaster to have their trunks carried over to his little house on the edge of town and they all strolled down the short distance to his humble abode.
“Mary, this room will be yours. It has a nice view of the street and you can go out that side door there to the porch if you’re of a mind to sit in the evening air.”
The black garbed widow sat on the large bed and bounced with an agile motion that seemed out of place for her normal deportment.
“I hope there was no recent hanky-panky going on in this thing, brother!”
Wes knew Mary was just trying to get a rise out of him with the “brother” routine because they had a kind of steamy short-lived affair when he was working with his brother. Wes felt guilty then and still did but she had been equally at fault. The sexually needy Mary made no bones about suggesting he had “taken advantage” of her overly active physical needs not attended to by his scatterbrained brother. He remembered in great detail the way she whimpered behind her hand as he impaled her nightly with his brother in another room. He realized it was the danger of being caught that really heightened the satisfaction of the moment.
He took Ella Mae down to the smaller bedroom at the back of the house that he had set up for her. There was a new bed with fixings from back East somewhere. The large mirror was a special item he had purchased at the general store. He thought it would be a nice warm touch for a growing female as a comfort in a new home. No sooner had they entered the room than Ella Mae sort of slid back against him and looked over her shoulder and up into his eyes.
“Uncle Wes, I am not a virgin any more like I was before. You don’t have to worry. I have been poked by 3 men already. Well, 2 men and a boy I guess I should say. I must say the boy had a very long cock and filled me up right to the brim with men’s juice.”
Despite his good intentions, Wes felt his cock go hard as a rock and he knew he was lodged right in little Ella Mae’s ass crack. He quickly closed the bedroom door and pushed up the sweet young thing’s skirts above her heart-shaped buttocks. With his hand, he rubbed his long arm up and down the teenager’s ass gap. She was wet with a combination of perspiration and female desire. It made for a very good lubrication as he guided in on her luscious tiny brown eye. Ella Mae was not his niece by blood as she was Mary’s by a previous dalliance before she married his besotted fool of a brother.
“Oh, Uncle Wes, are you gonna poke my back hole? I ain’t never got it back there. I guess you will take my virginity in my other hole.”
Ella Mae reached back and pulled her ass cheeks apart to give Wes entrance to her private little pucker hole. She gasped in bewilderment as she felt his hard cock probe her tender little opening. It was so different than in her other female hole. She felt her defenses give way to his persistent pressure and sucked in her breath as his long cock slid inside all the way up inside her heated rectal cavity.
She wanted so badly to shout out encouragement but was afraid to make any sound in fear that her mother would become aware of her delicious impalement by the Marshal’s beautiful cock.
Knowing that time was of the essence, the teenaged girl bounced silently on the hard cock until she felt her juices begin to spurt in a juicy display of female depravity. The draining of Wes’s cock and balls into her tight little anus filled her with satisfying cream and made her docile and very sleepy.
The sound of Mary’s voice almost made them both break out in laughter.
“Get some rest now, dear. You must be tired after that long ride. Don’t be bothering your Uncle Wes with your foolishness!”
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